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Time to step up my game.

If my ISP is to be allowed to sell my browsing history to advertisers, I want that browsing history to make someone shit their pants. If someone looked at it now, they’d find mostly gardening advice and writing gadgets. Of course there’s a bit of weird shit, because that’s what happens when novelists have Internet access, but even the weird shit is expressed in its most bland, innocuous form. If browsing history is going to be a corporate commodity, then I aim to make corporate bigwigs have nightmares from looking through my “story research.” They should be too afraid to contact the sorts of businesses that might cater to my tastes.

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About alysonmiers

Alyson the Incorrigible of House Miers; High Priestess of Sparkly Fractal Flames; Summoner of Creative Insults; Wrangler of Adverbs, Semicolons and Conditional Clauses; Bane of Euphemisms; Mixer of Genres; and Mother of Witches.